The tenth kid had a locker containing two bottles of pills. They looked to be prescription. He asked Jaime about them.

“As long as the medicine is from a doctor, we allow it into the school.”

“Can I pick up the bottles?” he asked her.

“Why are you asking me? You’re in charge.”

He picked up the bottles. “It’s all the same medicine.”

“I have a note,” the kid said anxiously. “You can call my mom.”

Decker looked him over. A stick of a kid: he was shaking. “I’m just wondering why you need sixty pills of any kind at school when the dose is one a day…at night.”

The kid said nothing.

Decker put the bottle back inside his locker. “Something you might want to think about. Someone could get the wrong idea…like you were selling off the excess. Of course, I know that’s not the case. But…it kinda looks bad.”

The kid mumbled a pathetic “Yessir.”

“It’s all right, Harry,” Jaime comforted him. “We can talk about this later.”

“Yes, Dr. Dahl.”

Decker went on to the next one, then the next. Over the course of the next hour, he found lots of bottles that looked suspect. Either they were genuine pharmaceutical containers with pills that didn’t match the prescribed medicine, or they carried counterfeited labels altogether. Since medicine was allowed, Decker left it up to Jaime to discipline. Usually, a stern look from the beautiful doctor was enough to send the boys into paroxysms. Decker felt for the kids, just like he had felt for Jacob after the boy had confessed his drug use. Kids had a way of doing that to him, making him feel bad even when he was just doing his job.

Rooting through the trash of rotting food, old papers, wrappers, and garbage. Not to mention old, wet gym clothes that smelled riper than decayed roadkill. Besides the pills, Decker found more than a fair share of cigarette butts—tobacco and otherwise. He pretended not to notice them. He also came upon packages of condoms—most of them unopened. There were also lots of pinups—mostly female, but there were some studly males as well. All of the posers wore smiles and adequate amounts of clothing. He also found several indiscreet Polaroids that he conveniently overlooked. It didn’t take long before Jaime Dahl became acutely aware of his omissions. It didn’t make her friendlier, but it did make her curious.

She said, “You’re not taking notes.”

“Pardon?”

“I see you’re not making note of any of the material you’re finding.”

“I haven’t found anything significant.”